The Prophercy
by Child Of Old
Summary: "Do you trust me?" I asked instead. He now looked worried as he hesitated. "What if i said i did?" I blinked at him. Was he ready to hear this? "I'd have to die, and Camelot would have to fall." A powerful sorceress, a dangerous prophecy. Romance with a prince and a wizard and a final battle that one of them will not survive. Powerful magic will always come at a price...


_Chapter One: Arthur Pendragon_

"_Why do you play these games with me?" He asked. "Why put your life on pause for a cause you don't believe in?"  
I smiled and gently touched his face._

"_Do you trust me?" I asked instead._

_He hesitated and I smiled again._

"_I can see you don't."_

"_What if I said I wasn't sure yet?" He hedged when I started to move away from him. He put his hand on my shoulder and forced me to stay with him. "How would you answer my question then?"_

_I shrugged._

"_I'd say I'd keep playing games with you until you do." I answered him simply. "And I will continue to put my life at risk for a cause that I cannot believe in until you do."_

"_And what would happen if I did?"_

_I searched his eyes for something that told me he was ready to hear this. Even though I didn't find it, the words seemed to tumble out on their own._

"_I'd have to die and Camelot would have to fall."_

_A scream pierced the air._

~0~

I first met Arthur Pendragon on the battle field when I was fifteen years old. I had wondered far from my abusive fathers cave in search for what little food I could forage and a break from my fathers slurred, crude words and hard, permanently fisted hands.

I had heard some screams, some yells, and had seen smoke rise from two parts of the valley, two parts that were separated only by the thinnest part of the trail. The screams and yells had gone eerily silent then, the only thing piercing it was the clinks of metal and the sounds of metal against metal that made me think my ears were going to bleed.

I had crept closer to the thinnest part of the trail and ducked down just behind the hill, crawling up it so I could take a peek over the side. Two army's faced each other, dressed in there fine armer and grim, determined faces. I recognised both the armys, and I feared for them as both had a reputation for being one of the best armys in the whole wide world, or so my friend had told me. Camelot and Northridge. And there, standing right at the front with their swords raised, their faces pale and sweaty, were their leaders. The old king Digimon, and the young king Arthur Pendragon, king of Camelot. It was Arthur that caught my eye for reasons other then his good looks and the deadly intent that shadowed his eyes. It was his trace of magic, that was all over him like finger prints of mud. I saw him glow that prominent orange colour that always told me when strong magic was involved. It was all over this anti-magic king, and thats what made me curious about him.

I had heard tales about both him and his father, most of them from my bitter fathers mouth when his ale had loosened his tongue. My mother had been killed in the Great Purge, along with her brother and mine. My older brother, my senior by just over a decade, barely sixteen when he and my uncle had marched off, magic at the ready, and never returned. Uther Pendragon and his knights had attacked my village soon after. My mother had thrust me, her youngest child, just one week off becoming seven, into my fathers arms and told him to run with me, and keep me safe. And because my father loved her, he agreed, albeit reluctantly. I can remember every second of that day, and the days that followed, with such vividness that whenever I cared to recall it it was almost like I was there, reliving it once more.

Therefore, it stood to reason that I should hate this Arthur Pendragon for merely the blood that ran through his veins. And perhaps I would have, had I not been distracted by his bright orange glow that covered him. And maybe I might have had I not then seen the man next to him also glowing a most vibrant orange, only this time the orange was so bright and vivid it might've been red.

_Emrys_.

The name floated through my mind, unbidden, and a shock as I tasted his power within my mouth. He was strong at magic, and that made me fear him. My father had often spat at my feet about a prophecy that had been made at my birth, but he had never elaborated on it other then to say I was suppose to be the most powerful sorceress in the entire world, and yet I was a fat brat. Since I had had nothing to compare my magic to, I could not compare my magic to this mans, Emrys. For all I knew, my magic could've been weak and useless, whereas this mans was clearly stronger.

"One last chance, Digimon." My eyes snapped to the King Arthur once more, who held his sword at the ready as his clear words carried across the trail to his enemy. The wind strengthened as my breath did, sending the gravel and the stones and the grass swaying and moving agitatedly. King Arthur continued. "One last chance." He repeated. "Surrender and there will be no further repercussions. I only want peace."

"You want nothing of the sort." The other king shouted back to him. "You are the same as your father and I would spit on you if I thought you worthy of it! Now stop delaying!" He paused. "Unless you are the one who truly wants to surrender?"

There was a tense moment whilst my hands tightened on the mud, my eyes flitting from one army to the other frantically.

Finally, Arthur's voice rang out fiercely.

"For Camelot!"

"For Camelot!" His army took up the chant, and then suddenly there was caos and agony. The armys swarmed together in a fierce blood bath, and the sharp pinpricks in my head told me deaths and casualties had already been sustained. I screamed and rolled onto my back, trying to smother my noise but already knowing they couldn't hear me over the clanging of metal against metal, blood against blood, flesh against flesh and metal against flesh.

I rolled and kicked out my legs in agony until I finally couldn't take it any more and the anger I'd tried to keep at bay finally consumed me.

I sprang to my feet and turned towards the battle. They hadn't seen me and I slowly made my way half way down the grassy bank that rose around the trail that was now covered in sweat and blood. I cast my hand out towards the battle and pinpointed a particularly nasty and brutal killing machine.

"Færblæd wawe!" I cast and the man was sent tumbling back, hitting his head against a sharp rock. A big stab in my neck told me I'd killed him. Unfortunately, all along that side were also flung back.

I turned to the people who had chosen to stare at me and raised my hand to them as well, feeling my eyes burning and my veins coursing with the fluid, liquid of golden, powerful magic.

"Hleap on bæc!" I proclaimed.

They all went spinning back, until, eventually, the more angry I got, an entire army was defeated. The Old kings army.

I couldn't believe what I had gone. I clutched myself as the burning within my head got worse then I could bare.

As King Arthur's army looked around themselves in bewilderment, I let out the most almighty scream and dropped to my knees. My head was flung back and my veins in my entire body stood on end as I tried to contain the burning. My shrieks must've been heard all over the kingdom, and soon I found myself being lifted, carried, even though my body was so stiff with pain and so numbed to anything else I did not fully comprehend the movement.

"Sire, its a girl." I heard somebody say through my screams.

"She's in pain!" A voice cried, and footsteps rushed over the gravel towards me. The voice was music to my ears, silky and smooth and so full of delicious magic that it calmed me so much that I stopped screaming. I only panted heavily, the pain now less but still heavily weighing on my mind.

I opened my eyes to see that man, the man with the dark hair and the green eyes, the lean figure and the almost red aura. He was there, and as he smoothed his hand over my forehead I think he was surprised about what he felt in me too, though I wasn't sure what that was.

"Quick, we needs herbs and ointment now!" He cried suddenly, whirling around. "Would somebody fetch my medicine bag!"

"Who is she?" And there he was, the blonde, good looking king himself. "What is she doing here?"

"She's clearly hurt, sire." The man holding me told him urgently, but I didn't have enough curiosity or strength to turn my head to see his face. "She needs medical attention."

"What the hell was she doing on the battle field?" The king demanded.

Then, I saw it. The Old King, there, creeping up behind Arthur with his sword glinting in the sunlight. I kicked frantically, trying to warn somebody without words so he wouldn't know I had seen him. How had nobody else seen him.

"No, no, keep still, you're hurt." The man holding me tried to shush, tightening his hold around me, but still I kicked and bucked. The magical man, Emrys, was looking down on me in concern, smoothing my hair back from my forehead.

Finally, I could see no other choice and I stopped my kicking.

"Tæfle." I whispered, and my eyes burned as I looked at the old king. He was flung back, cracked his neck, and once more a sharp pinprick in my head told me I'd killed him.

As Arthur and Emrys whirled around at the thump, the man holding me dropped me as if I'd suddenly turned to fire.

"Ow." My legs gave way and I was left huddling in the gravel and mud, my head bowed as I tried to contain my anger. I could not let it release here of all places.

I heard the sword being drawn and felt it being held against my neck.

"Sire, the girl, she is magic."

I looked up to see Emrys staring down at me, his whole body tense and his eyes glowing so lightly that I doubted any mortal could actually tell that it was.

"I know."

And the king stood there, his judgemental, warring eyes staring down at me as he placed his hands on his impressive hips. I hated his eyes then, I hated his posture then. In fact, I remember just hating _him _then. How dare he, after all I had just done for him, judge me?

"Why did you come here?" He asked.

I didn't answer, my eyes trained on him.

"What do you want from me?"

I shrugged.

"I want nothing. I only came across you accidentally. I do not like violence."

"And yet I suppose you are the one who got rid of Digimon's army?"

I inclined my head and said nothing more.

He shook his head at me, seeming to be confused.

"And you say you came across us accidentally?"

"Yes."

"You do know what the penalty of magic is, do you not?"

"We are no longer in Camelot. You cannot sentence me to death in my own land, my lord."

He looked stunned.

"Your land?"

I looked up at him, feeling my own confusion.

"Yes, my lord. There is nowhere around here for miles except me and my father, so doesn't that mean the land is ours?"

He looked so startled that for a moment he said nothing, just stared at me, until he let out a reluctant little chortle.

"No, that is not the way it works. This land is still mine, that is why Digimon and I were fighting."

I felt my eyes widen and fear fill me as I realized what this meant. He _could _sentence me to death for helping him using ways he did not understand. I could be dead by the next week.

I could still feel the sharp tip of the blade against my neck and suddenly, something inside me snapped.

"...just a girl, Arthur." Emrys was saying as the time of my snap.

My head snapped up and I glared right into the eyes of _King _Arthur.

"I will not die for helping you!" I shouted right at him. "If this is the way you treat your allies, then it is no better then the way you treat your foes!"

I spun my head around and caught the blade in my hand, cutting it on myself even as I spun and twisted it out of the knights grip. I flung it to the side and felt my eyes burn and the wind whipped around as as the knights that would've stopped me were flung away and blinded by the wind.

I seized my skirts and ran. I ran as far up the hill and down the hill as I could, never once looking back as I heard their yells fade away into the background. I found the knot of trees and brambles my father used to push me in had I been naughty (or so he thought) and wrestled through them. The brambles cut at my face, my hair, my eyes, my arms, every piece of flesh it could get to as I ran through them to the little cove I used to sit and hide from my father. Nobody knew it was there, it was just a sheltered part of the wood with one tree stump in the middle of it and brambles surrounding it in a little circle. The brambles and tree stump were separated by a bit of soft mud that I used to pretend was magical healing mud.

I ran there.

~0~

I don't know how long I sat there, gazing up as the sun faded into the sky, massaging my wounds and trying to blot away the blood. It felt like hours but it could've been just minutes. The next thing I know, it is dark, and it is cold, and the brambles are rustling in a way that tells me somebody had found me.

I can see his almost red aura before her turns up, can taste his power in the air as it tries to grab me and suffocate me in the sweetest way possible.

His hair was dark and scruffy and his eyes wild and frantic as he stumbled into the circle, barely a scratch on him.

I stared up at him, not moving from my spot on the tree stump, and I cradled my cut hand to me. He didn't seem to be mortally armed, but of course he was magic so I think he could've hurt me anyway.

He saw me and instantly came to me, kneeling by my side.

"Hello." he said softly, not moving any closer to me. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. My names Merlin. I just want to help you."

I blinked slowly at him, confused.

"No. Your name is Emrys."

He looked at me before sighing and shaking his head.

"You know that, do you? Well, in the mortal world my name is Merlin. Only to the druids am I Emrys. Are you a druid?"

I shook my head and he nodded.

"Then you can call me Merlin." He grinned up at me suddenly, and I noticed what a lovely smile he had.

He offered his own hand to me.

"May I have a look at your cut?"

I drew it further away from him, shaking my head.

"No, Merlin." I told him. "If I go home with cuts and bruises like this, he will leave me alone."

As far as I was concerned, everybody's father's were like my father.

But Merlin just looked confused.

"He?" He questioned and I nodded, frowning at me.

"My father." I snorted softly. "Well, my supposed father. He is not my real father, my real father was magic like my mother."

He still looked confused, but he left that for now as he reached forward and firmly grasped my wrist in his, drawing my hand to him so he could examine it.

"Real fathers do not hurt their children." He told me quietly, still holding my hand as he stared through the holes in my dress at my other cuts.

I didn't tell him I didn't think so, as I had never met any other fathers and he probably had so he probably knew more then me about them.

"You don't have to go back to him, you know." He told me then conversationally.

I stared at him, suspiciously and hopefully.

"I do not?"

He shook his head.

"You hold magic, and people with magic protect their own." he paused before snorting quietly. "Well, most of the time. I can take you to some people that can look after you and show you how to use your magic."

I stared at him.

"I already know a few spells my mother taught me." I told him proudly.

He raised his eyebrows, grinning.

"So I saw. Where is your mother now?"

My eyes shifted away from him.

"She is gone."

"Gone where?"

"You ask a lot of questions, don't you?"

"Only questions I want answers to."

"What is it to you where my mother is?"

"I want to help you!"

I crossed my arms over my chest.

"How do you propose to help me then?"

He reached for my hand and started winding a soft, gauzy material around it. I wasn't sure where it was come from, but it seemed to stem the bleeding for the moment.

"I know where a group of druids hide." He started. "They know me and trust me."

"You are the kings man servant." I pointed out. "And they are druids."

"Yes." He didn't elaborate and I didn't push him. We sat silently for a moment.

"Anyway, they will take you in once I explain you have magic. They will look after you. Train you up."

I sighed wistfully.

"That sounds nice."

He brought his hand up to my cut face very slowly, and gently cupped it in his own, larger, rough hand.

"It _will _be nice." He promised. "They will look after you with my aid."

"Why would you do this for me?" I asked brokenly, all my anger and fear gone.

He shrugged and kept his hand where it was.

"Because I know you are destined for great things. I was foretold about you and I will make sure you for fill your destiny." He nodded determinedly before returning to my cuts.

"What about my father?" I asked.

"He will never see you again." Merlin answered without looking up. "And unless you want to, you will never see him again."

The relief that coursed through me was like no feeling I had ever known. Even at the aged of fifteen, as unworldly and broken and troubled as I was, I knew Merlin was somebody special, somebody who could and would protect me at all costs, no matter how well he did or didn't know me. And I trusted him.

After a moment or too, he straightened and brushed his hands off. Then he smiled and held out his one hand to me.

"Are you coming with me?" he asked.

I smiled and put my hands in his.

"You do know I won't be able to see you often, if at all, for the next few years?"

I hesitated at that. What if these druids did not like me and treated me just as badly as my father had? What would I do without him.

But he squeezed my hand and lifted my chin so I looked at him straight in the eye.

"Do you trust me?"

I followed him blindly to the druids.

But I never answered his question.

~0~ ~0~

_**Alright, so what did everybody think? I'll post up a new chapter if people like it and review. If its rubbish, please still review and tell me so.**_

_**Thank you!**_

_Child of Old._


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